


Im just so tired, John

by idkimemily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post-His Last Vow, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:30:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimemily/pseuds/idkimemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is trying. Really he is, but he just can't keep his head aligned anymore. John was a ticking bomb in his head, he's been ticking away for years now, mary ignited the fuse and now sherlocks head is chaos. The explosion caused havoc, he can't keep his thoughts behind closed doors, they leak onto the floor and he can't see, can't think. So he gets john's gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John keeps glancing at his phone. He's waiting for a call, probably his wife. Waiting for an excuse to leave. I try to ignore it but the insistant locking and unlocking of his mobile is becoming infuriating. "If you want to leave just say so, john"  
"Hmm?" He tries to imitate innocent.  
"You keep checking your phone. Obviously waiting for an excuse to leave." I thought we were having a pleasant evening. The most pleasant we've had for a few months actually. We had been sat just like this, beside eachother on the sofa this morning when lestrade called. A man had gone missing on his stag night apparently, we were to meet him at "the yellow dog" a small pub near camden. When we arrived it was clear i had been mislead into a friendly day-time drinking session arranged by john and lestrade. They laughed hysterically, i obviously didn't find my manipulation funny.  
John wanted to stay, so of course i obliged, and by 5pm he was on the verge of intoxicated. He was in a state of alcoholic induced euphoria and he looked incredible.  
He was positively glowing, all smiles and wandering hands.

That was 4 hours ago and john had pretty much sobered up. "I'm not" he chuckled. He slipped his phone away but he would be fishing for it again in a few minutes. "Honestly, you don't have to babysit me."  
"I know, sherlock"  
He made my name sound so lovely. The name that caused me torment for 16 years of my insufferable life, now the sound it made around john's lips seemed the reason for the word.  
"I'm giving you an excuse. Take it." I want him to stay, of course i do. His leg against mine seems to be keeping me stable, im ashamed to say that i have cried myself to sleep every night since i was shot.  
"Sherlock, don't ruin it"  
I stand up and walk to my chair. Now his leg against mine feels too warm, it's burning my skin. I both despise and love the space between me and john watson at this moment. "Go home, john" _'there was a time this was your home'_ i add, in an alternate universe. I want him to stand up and tell me ' _This is my home'_. I want him to meet him in the middle of this room and kiss him, to feel his lips and stomach and legs and arms all against me, i want my skin to burn against his.  
But i ruined it. This day, our first day where things might be returning to how they were before, but i ruined it.  
"It's Mary" i look up. His phone is in his hand but he's looking at me, expectantly?  
"Answer it then doctor, answer to your wife. God knows i did." I wanted it to sound funny, i wanted to see john smile, i love it when john smiles. All the lines in his face translate into this map, a map of time spent laughing, its carved into his face. He's not smiling now though. He looks tired. I'm suddenly exhausted. "Sherlo-" i don't let him finish the beautiful word formed in his throat. "Get out" because i can't watch him leave because mary tells him to. I can't watch him choose her over me, not anymore, not again. More words are tryinh to spill from his mouth, i can't let them. "Get out. Get out, john. Now" Im panicking. If i panic i'll cry and i can't let john see me cry, i can't let him see that i care. Why did i get involved? Why didn't i listen to my pompous brother? But i want him to see, want him to grab my hand and tell me he's not going anywhere. But he doesn't. He doesn't do anything. My legs and arms are struggling not to shake now, i can feel tears and heat and hurt behind my eyes. I dig the heal of my hand into my eyes to try to dig it out, the hurt, the longing, it's killing me. I can't do it anymore. "Sherlock," he touches my arm, why is he so close to me? Why is he so far away? I flinch and push him away. Why do i always push him away? Then my arms are pushing him out, out of the door and down. Down the stairs. He tries to stop me but my arms are too strong, he's out of the door in seconds.


	2. The world is an ocean and i can't swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's finally given up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not very original but i was thinking about this and it made me sad so i wrote it down

"Sherlock"

I don't want to hear him say that, if i hear him say my name so carefully, so lovingly, i'll let him back in. 

I stand up and i go back upstairs. Everything is in it's place. How can that be when my mind is falling apart. John. Mary. Magnusse.  Mycroft. Who's good and who's bad? Who can i trust? John. Myself? Mary who shot me? No. Mary who john loves? I have to. She's the same person though, my brain can't, won't process this. John is living with her, what if he hurts him? No, because people love john, nobody loves me. John? Not anymore. "I ruined it" i tell my chair, because no one else is hear. John was here. John. All the papers have his name on them. All the books are written by him. All of the air was from his lungs. And now i can't breathe. I swipe at the papers, they flutter down whispering _"freak" "john" "mary" "freak".  "_ FREAK _"_  I laugh. "Sherlock's a freak" I scream, watching the paper fall to the carpet. I claw at the piles, i tear at them, shread the contents. Ink parts from ink, syllables split. John. My mouth opens and a raw howl escapes. The screaming hurts my throat but my head seems lighter so i carry on. I scream and scream until my desk is empty. Then i scream at johns books. "Leave me alone. Im sorry. I ruined it! I ruined it" i empty the shelves asif it could help the over flow of knowledge in my brain. I rip pages from the covers and one word fills every page " _Mary_ " i throw the words to the torn pages of " _John_ ". I can't fucking see. I am a tornado and i tear through the flat. 

I kick the desk and a pained screech escapes me, i do it again. I kick everything and try to isolate my pain, but my chest is over powering my likely fractured foot, and my head is obliterating the competition. i can't see past my tears and words floating around the room. Most of them are snatches of conversations, with john, mary, my year 7 teacher. But then random pieces of theory or deductions. My head is leaking. Pouring out useless information like magma, my skin is on fire. My lungs are clogged with smoke and i try to call out but it comes ou as a snarl. "SHERLOCK" john just won't shut up. 

He is banging on my frontal lobe, and in my aorta, blocking blood flow, no wonder my heart is writhing in my chest. The knocking is agonising. Or is that him at the door? Does it even matter? Im lay in the piles of _john and mary_ , pain and destruction. I'm just so tired. John please shut up. I need to get away from the sound, the thumping. I don't want to hear him, because maybe i'll listen. 

 


	3. Just let me sleep

The bathroom. My thoughts are coherent again. I stand up and walk to the bathroom, i am amazed at how smoothly my legs make the journey, as i can hear johns pained cries through the door. I did this. I ruined the day. Mary ruined john, john ruined me, i ruined everything.   
The bathroom lights are white and i feel like im under scrutiny. I look in the mirror and i see myself. I realise that no one else has seen this, not even mycroft, definitely not john. John. My hand clutches at my chest and i squeeze my eyes shut. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" I open my eyes so i can ask myself. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong with ME?!?!!" My eyes are read and ugly and cold. I am cold, my heart is lead. John is thawing it. My hair is long and unruly, not in a windswept, heart throb way, it is knotted and sticks out at the wrong angles to be sexy. My mouth is thin and the words that are spat from it are rude and abnormal. I am not the genius people think i am, because i don't know why i am here. All i offer to the world is cynical nonsense and trauma. I am cold hearted and solving the odd crime is not worth the pain i offer with my being.   
There are scars littering my chest and torso, the most recent, a small, round bullet wound.   
I hate Mary. I tried not to, for John. I told him to forgive her and he succeeded. My fault. I just couldn't. Everytime i think of her i can feel a disgusting frozen sweat soaking my back, palms and forehead. I'm scared to spend too much time with john because i fear she might finish me off this time. I'm scared she'll shoot john next. Or leave him alone and broken. How could i trust her? How could John? But he does, more so then he trusts me. My only friend in the world, joined with my attempted killer. Why am i here?   
I'm just stood staring into my own eyes, the image is blurry but i focus on the blue. Im crying again because there's only one thought left. "I have no purpose". And it's true. The words steam the mirror and clog my airways, my breathing now raggaed. I look up and can see myself, really me, for the first time. I am wide eyed and crazy. I am a mental patient awaiting a straight jacket and padded cell. All i need is a way out.


	4. The gun, john

Im swimming through my mind palace, it's submerged, waves are cracking the walls as facts escape and swarm the exit. Im searching for something, my own exit. I reach the edge of the water and heave my heavy body out of the boiling water. My clothes stick to my white skin, my bones shake but i'm sweating. The room is "suicide options" i created it at such a young age, and had now crammed inside every possible way i could end my life. The room is littered with pills and ropes and knives and...guns. Johns gun. Its here in the flat, i could retreive it and finish Marys work. In the head or the chest? The mind or the heart? My head burns but my heart is frozen. John is here. He's breaking down the door, can't he just leave me alone? Of course he couldn't, the thought threatens to warm my heart. The sentiment does not penetrate the cool surface and i approach the door. As i step out i hear splintered wood and i know john is breaking down the door. I smooth my hair and jacket, i need his help to find the gun, i have to appear calm. "Sherlock!!" He screams and he runs through the door to me. He runs fully into my trail of destruction and looks horrified. I cringe and shake and forget my plans to remain calm. "John, i need your help" the words don't even register. My throat is raw and i begin to cry. I squeeze my throat tight, i need to talk to him. "Sherlock. Im sorry, i'm so sorry" he hugs me around my scar dotted torso, his shoulder wound probably equal with my chest wound.  
"John. Im fine. I need something from you"  
I whisper above his head. "You're not fine!" He looked at me with stupidly pretty eyes. "John i need you-" "Come on, you can come back to mine. Just shut up for a minute" "JOHN I NEED YOUR GUN...please" " no way" all the times i had called him an idiot, i had never wished i was right so strongly before. "John" "NO FUCKING WAY"  
He was angry? Why was he angry?! I'm the one who got shot! I'm the one who lost everything. "John. The gun." "Sherlock there is-" "john if you don't give me your gun, i will swallow a handful of pills and you can watch me thrashing like a pathetic child as i choke on my own vomit, or you can give me your gun. "  
"What's going on?" He had no idea. I hated how innocent his mind was. Always thinking the best of everything. I envied him.  
"I need your gun, i just can't let my brain remain unscathed. If i do, they might take it and cut it open and experiment on it and i don't want them to see what's inside." I'm not making sense. This makes no sense.  
"Sherlock" his voice is so soft and i dont know why that startles me, but when i look at him he's crying. His eyes are puffy. Was he crying outside? "Dont cry"  
"Why are you doing this?"  
I don't know what my answer is. I'm trying, i'm scouring my brain for anything i can use. "Because i ruined it" i decide on.  
"Ruined what? I didn't mean it. You know i didn't" i didn't know anything.  
"I ruined it. I ruined us." I was crying and shaking like a newborn and john was trying his best to comfort me, as i towering above him. I bent to cry into his chest. "Us?"  
"I-I love--" i couldn't finish. It hurt so much. "Come on, just come to bed"  
I was so tired. So i let him take me to my bed.  
I let him hold me and stroke down my mess of hair. I would let him do anything for me in the last hours of that friday night. I even let him tell me he loves me too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever, so sorry if i wasted your time. Sorry about any mistakes or how badly it's written okay


End file.
